In Chicago
by Fantasy3
Summary: The rewrite of Chicago Against New York. When the New York newsies go to visit the Chicago newsyboys, they find out that they aren't wanted, enough to start a 'war'. And so it does. Contains violence and swearing.
1. Prologue

1900. The turn of the century. The newsboys of New York were still thoroughly enjoying the effects from winning their strike in the summer of 1899. They were selling their papers back to the Distribution Office, so they weren't penalized for not selling all of them. They, along with all the working class people in the city, were treated better in places owned by the middle class. More people bought their papers, even if the headlines were bad, to show their support. In general, things weren't as dangerous for these "street rats". 

The newsboys also enjoyed a few, more personal victories. The Delanceys and Mr. Wiesel were fired; an eye was kept on Synder at all times so that, even when a kid was sent to the Refuge (which was becoming increasingly less frequent), they were taken care of fairly; and the newspaper owners began to allow girls to sell their papers, even ordered that a Newsgirls Lodging House be built for them to live in. Needless to say, everything was good in New York for the newsies. Unfortunately, things weren't going as well in other cities, especially Chicago.

There, the mayor, after hearing about the strike, changed everything because of his new "good intentions". All he wanted to do was help, but in doing so, he made everything worse. He rose the taxes by a dollar for everyone who had a job so he could repair old, rundown buildings and turn them into new tenemants. He ordered the owners of already-existing tenemants to lower their prices so more people could afford to live there. He made trips to the poorest parts of the city and personally gave food and clothing to the people he found there. He made it so that children under the age of ten couldn't work. He forced employment on anyone he came across without a job so they could make money and take care of themselves and their families.

All of these changes might sound like they're for the better. However, the rise in taxes angered the wealthy families of Chicago, caused a small hardship for some of the families in the second class, and caused very big problems formost families in the third class because they depended on that extra dollar. These people, especially the rich, blamed their new problems on the tenemants they were now involuntarily paying to maintain.

The lowered prices in the already-exisiting tenemants made living in them much worse- the owners had less money for themselves and they couldn't repair any of the problems that arose, like cracked walls, broken doors, and broken locks. Electricity was almost impossible to pay for. It did nothing to help bring peace in the tenemants, either.The tenants blamed the owners for all these small inconveniences, and the owners blamed the tenants for not paying enough to have them fixed.

The trips the mayor made stripped all the pride away from the poor people he supplied things to because they indirectly said they couldn't take care of themselves. Unfortunetly, they were also publicized (the mayor went no where without a photographer). This put the poor on display, made them feel as though they were only being helped to make the mayor look good. They came to hate these monthly trips and the person who paid them the visit.

The children under ten who formerly worked in the factories lost their jobs and the income, however meager, they had brought to their families. Those who the mayor forced into jobs soon took over the children's places inthe factories that paid almost nothing for a long, hard, dangerous day of work. They hated the mayor for making them work there, and the children hated them for stealing their jobs.

The changes bred hatred and anger between the people in Chicago. They couldn't stand each other. Eventually, everyone began to blame the mayor for their problems, before finally realizing who's fault it "really was." The hatred, anger, and blameof every Chicagoan was soon directed at a group of innocent, undeserving people: the newsboys and newsgirls of Chicago. "Nothing would have changed if the newsboys hadn't won their strike," was the argument of most Chicago citizens. And even though the Chicago newsies had no part in the strike, they were the unlucky few who were close at hand, and so were forced to shoulder a whole city's blame.

Hardly anyone bought papers from them, instead preferring to hear the news by word of mouth. They made barely enough money to live by. Some left to find other jobs, but most who did came back a week or two later; no one wanted to hire a newsie. They weren't welcomed in any restaurant. The only way they recieved food was from the nuns, who thankfully still came with bread and water every morning. They were spit at in the streets by men and boys from every social class, laughed at by teenaged girls, and avoided at all costs by mothers with their children. They were the social outcasts, and were left feeling lonely, unwanted, and very, very angry.

Since they could do nothing to change how they were treated, they soon cast a hatred that surpassed the one aimed at them on the newsies of New York. They were the cause for all their pain and suffering. They were the ones who had made things change.

And then the Chicago mayor made one more mistake. Upon seeing how little the newsboys and girls sold, and how despondent and unenthusiastic they were, he telegraphed the mayor of New York. Wanting only that Chicago thrive, he requested that twenty or so newsies from New York come and show his how to sell. "At my expense, of course," he told the other mayor. After much consideration, the mayor from New York agreed, and replied, "They'll be on the train in two days time."


	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: If any character or setting reminds you of the movie Newsies, then I guaruntee I don't own it. The girl characters in this chapter are owned by other people, who oddly enough are their owners.

Eighty years later, I'm finally back to this story...

* * *

As the sun began to rise, Kloppman made his way up the rickety steps to again awake the newsboys and disturb the peace of the lodging house. He paused before pushing open the door, savoring the quiet for one last second, and then continued with his task. Not even a minute later, the room was full of voices (mostly complaining) and water running in the bathroom. 

This was the regular routine for the New York newsboys. They were woken up too early for their liking, but got up and began getting ready for a new day of selling. One particular newsie, however, was still laying on his bed, staring at the cieling above him from his position on the top bunk.

"Race!" Jack said, exasperated, when he looked and saw his friend. "What are ya doing? We gotta go sell our papes."

"I'm jus' savoring the view of you in your undershirt." He grinned and sat up, not flinching as Jack's hat came flying at him. "You know, some day I'm not gonna give this back and sell it down at the tracks instead. I don't know how much money I'd get for it, but I'm sure some unlucky boy will want ta buy it."

"Haha, very funny, Race. Now get up," Jack countered, but he too was grinning. He caught his cowboy hat as it came his way and carefully put it back over his head where it belonged. "We're not waitin' for you again taday."

Race swung his legs over the side of the bed and hopped down. "Hey Mush!" He called out. "Make sure there's a sink open for me!"

"Ya know," Skittery said to Jack as he came to stand beside him. "That's the fourth time this week he hasn't gotten up when Kloppman wakes him."

"It's nothin'," Jack said, swinging his newspaper rope over his shoulder. "He's jus' trying to catch up on his sleep. Snuck out last night again to visit that one goil."

Skittery laughed. "Medda's new act?"

Jack shook his head. "Don't know what he thinks he sees in her."

"Somethin' free and easy."

Jack laughed and looked around at Skittery. "That's about all, too. She ain't got no brains. Last time I saw Medda's show I tried talkin' to her and she couldn't even say a whole sentence."

Skittery shook his head, grinning. "Ya know, I think Sarah's really getting to you. You never cared about brains before."

"Oh, haha," Jack said, rolling his eyes. "Think you're real funny, doncha?" Skittery shurgged, his grin firm in place now. Jack hit the bill of Skittery's cap down so it covered his eyes and turned back to the room to shout, "All right, c'mon, let's get movin', the papes ain't gonna get sold without us."

Skittery pushed his hat back into place and watched as Jack walked away before shifting his eyes to the bathroom, where Mush and Racetrack were flicking shaving cream at each other. Maybe he was just always looking for the worst, but he thought his friend looked a bit pale and he couldn't help but worry. It was a miracle if the boys got through winter every year without at least half of them getting sick. He just hoped Race didn't push himself too hard, which he tended to do. He never liked to admit to being weak.

"Mush, Race, we're leavin' without you."

Mush ran into the bunkroom, grinning, and headed straight toward Skittery, blocking the bathroom from his sight. "We're ready, jus' let me find my shoe." Mush bent down to look under the bed, and the next second shaving cream was sliding down Skittery's face. The newsies' laughter resounded in his ears as he lifted his hand to wipe the white foam off his eyes. With a flick of his hand to get the cream off, he turned his glare at Racetrack.

Racetrack, however, was grinning and ignored the glare as he sidled up and joined him near the bunks. "That's a nice look for you, Skits. You should think about goin' out in public like that."

At that moment, Mush stood up. As he tried to hold back his laugh, he said, "I found my shoe. We should probably get going."

Skittery ignored Mush and grabbed Racetrack's extra shirt from his bunk bed and wiped the remaining shaving cream off his face. "And I ain't washin' that."

The three walked down the stairs behind everyone else, bickering, talking, and laughing, as were the rest of the newsies. They ambled out onto the street and immediately shivered; it was one of those deceptively sunny days where it was a lot colder than it looked. The air was clear, however, and soon they forgot the cold and the way their breath rose before them as they talked and made their way down the familiar streets to the Distribution Office. Halfway there, they heard a female voice call out to them.

"Hey, boys! If you stop walkin' so fast, maybe we could join you."

Some of the boys stopped and looked back to smile at the small group of girls who had joined their ranks since the strike. The one who had spoken stood in front of the other five girls who had taken the newly created girl jobs and lodgings.

Kid Blink, along with Specs and Pie Eater, stopped to wait for the six newbies. "Well, Zippy, maybe you could get up earlier and stop complainin'."

"We're not _that_ worried about keepin' up with you," Zippy countered.

Holiday nodded her agreement. "I would _not _get up any earlier. I'm not used to this early as it is." Kid Blink glanced in her direction, breifly wondering what she had been doing before becoming a newsie. However, there was a don't ask policy about anyone's history; most people were trying to get away from their past and did not appreciate anyone bringing it up.

As the girls drew close, the boys fell into step and again were on their way to the Distribution Office.

"And how was your morning?" Kid Blink asked the girls in general.

Echo shook her head. "I couldn't find any of my shirts so I borrowed Cakes'."

"And all of our shoes were missing," Marbles added.

"Turns out Ms. McGinn thought she'd do us a favor and put them by the door." Cheetah rolled her eyes. "That's just her way of saying she doesn't want us to get dirt all over the new floors."

"What happened to your shirts, though?" Pie Eater asked.

Echo frowned. "She thought they were too dirty to wear to work."

The three boys stared at her until Specs spoke up. "Does she know you work on the streets?"

"Good question," Zippy muttered.

"Ya know, I never saw the nuns this morning," Pie Eater said, looking around as they crossed a street. "Normally they're back on that block..."

"Is that all you think about?" Marbles asked in a friendly curious way.

Pie Eater turned around to look at the freckled, curly-haired girl. "I don't make a habit of thinkin' about nuns all the time, no."

Marbles laughed. "I meant food."

"Food?"

Specs grinned. "She got you on that one. Bad impression, Pie. We've known these girls for only a few months and they already know you're in love with food."

Cheetah grinned, too. "His name's a big tip-off." Specs laughed along with her as they rounded the corner. "I would ask what your favorite kind of food is, but I think I know the answer."

The voice of reason, Cakes jumped in. "Be nice, you don't have ta make fun of his name."

The group, minus Pie Eater and Cakes, looked around at each other, eyes twinkling. "Cakes, hun," Echo finally said good-naturedly. "You're one to talk."

Cakes broke out into a grin. "Never said I wasn't." They all shared a laugh and continued joking around until they walked through the metal gates and joined the line of boys and girls waiting to buy their morning papers. The second they joined the line, Specs heard his name called out and looked around for the source. His eyes finally landed on Mush as he pushed his way through the crowd of newsies. It was clear Mush had just bought his own papers as he carried a large stack in his left hand.

Specs smiled at his friend. "Heya, Mush."

"Listen, Specs, can I sell by you today?" he asked as he finally reached Specs' side. "There was a fire in one of the building's I usually sell in front of and the place is crumblin' in. I just wouldn't feel safe sellin' by it today."

"Sure," Specs agreed. "It'd be a shame if any bricks fell on your head."

"Glad to know you care about me."

Specs grimaced. "I'm doin' you this favor out of self-interest. If I said no and you went and stood under that building and got crushed by falling windows," he sighed deeply and placed his hand on Mush's shoulder. "Everyone would say it was my fault. I don't think I could live with that kind of ridicule."

"It's true," Holiday interrupted. As she spoke, she pushed her braided chesnut hair off her shoulder and stepped forward with the rest as the line moved, letting her hair swing from side to side over her back. "I would always blame Specs for your death."

Specs nodded and turned back to look at Mush. "So you see, purely about me."

"Oh, thanks," Mush said sarcastically.

"It's the least I could do." Specs smiled, dropped his hand and nodded toward his pile. "Did the fire make the papes?"

Mush smiled and held up his stack of papers. "Front page headlines. They don't know who started it, they think it might have been an attempted murder."

Specs smile widened. "Sellin' will be a lot easier today, then." He pulled the top paper off his friend's stack and opened it up to see the full picture. Flames were erupting from the windows of a three-story building as people stood on the side, watching with looks that even the black and white photograph showed to be full of horror. Long past feeling the guilt he originally felt over wishing for horrible events such as this to make his job easier, he exclaimed, "This is great."

The two moved forward in line, skimming the article for information they could use when they hit the streets, too caught up to notice a small article on the bottom that, had they taken the time to read it, would have caught their interest much more fully than the fire. The article, titled "Major Cities' Mayors Make Deal," explained that the New York mayor agreed to send some of his famous strike-leaders to Chicago in the hopes that people there would become just as inspired as the citizens of New York.


End file.
